Completion
by sinfullysarcastic
Summary: Eddie Miller has always sought completion, his way of perfection. Not having a father had always unsettled him, so when he turns eighteen and leaves high school, he sets out to meet the man who was gone most of his life. But maybe he needs more than one person to officially 'complete' his life. And maybe that other person is Patricia Williamson. AU Peddie.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House of Anubis.**

**I probably really shouldn't be starting a new multi chaptered story, considering the ones I have going, but this idea just came and I couldn't resist. I've got a general plotline going, but I don't know how long this is going to be or when I'm going to update. And this is the prologue, which is why it's really short. **

_Stomp_.

His leather boots seem louder in the train, they seem heavier and his feet feel sweatier. He's dragging his bag with him, rushing past colors and seats and windows and people. He can't pay attention to them though- not now, his mind is too cluttered, his thoughts too muffled.

Up until three weeks ago, Eddie Miller had known three things about his dad.

He is a teacher.

He lives in the UK.

He _left _them when Eddie was two.

Okay, so maybe the third one isn't a valid point and maybe it's not one he can put on his list, but he keeps it there. It is the cold, hard, truth- his father did leave him, leave _them_, as his mom had carefully explained many times.

Eddie doesn't like to admit he sometimes forgets about his dad. Sometimes, he can't even bring himself to miss the man. He feels cruel and horrid when he doesn't care like that, but it's true. Eddie never really missed him- he couldn't, he had never known him. Did he miss the position of a father? Yes. His earliest memories were being alone at baseball games while his friends high fived their dads, teaching himself how to ride a bike because his father wasn't there, and those long talks with his mother about how 'Daddy loves you still, he just needs some time.'

But sixteen damn years?

Sixteen damn years to himself? How much time does someone need?

The thought makes him angry, and he speeds up once again, finally finding a compartment of the train with empty space for him to sit too. He's tired and that's undeniable by the way he slouches and the purplish bags under his eyes. As Eddie throws his bag aside, only one thought is capable of crossing his mind: _sleep_.

"Oh, hello, dearie, what's your name?" Eddie cracks an eye open to observe the lady seated across from him, knitting expertly away. She glances up from the yarn and beams encouragingly, and Eddie straightens himself out as well, internally sighing. He wasn't expecting or anticipating a conversation so soon, and he hopes he doesn't come off as rude. Whenever he's cranky, Eddie's always mean and miserable and a complete jerk. "I'm Trudy."

She has to be around forty or maybe even forty five, Eddie observes. Her smile is warm and genuine, and he grins tiredly as well. A friendly face in a new place is always nice. Her tan skin and dark brown curls complement her brown eyes. What he's focused on though are her hands- still knitting at a rapid fire pace, fingers thin and taut from over time.

"Eddie," he says, deciding to ditch his usual 'bad boy' theme. Although he was slowly growing out of it, the leather jacket, picking fights, punk would never really be gone. And usually, Eddie would hate if anyone woke him up when he was trying to sleep, but this lady seemed fairly pleasant, and he could hardly share a compartment with her if her first impression of him was moody.

"That's a nice name," she beams at him again, noticing his eyes trailing down to her knitting needles. "Oh, I'm on my way to see my sister and her new baby."

"That's nice," Eddie nods, fighting hard to stay awake. "I'm trying to find my father."

"Oh," Trudy raises an eyebrow. "Find your father?"

Eddie yawns, "He left me and my mom when I was, like, two, But now I'm going to go find him and you know, talk things over, I guess."

"Oh, that's sad," Trudy sympathizes with him easily. "But aren't you a bit young for all this?"

"I just got out of high school," Eddie mutters, eyes drooping. "I'm, uh, waiting a year until I go to college."

"Oh," Trudy says softly. "Well, I'll let you sleep."

Eddie's pretty sure he mutters a thanks before dozing off, but he's not sure if Trudy replied.

Sleeping on that train, Eddie knows six things about his father, which he recorded the minute his mother told him at 3:01 AM on that Tuesday three weeks ago.

He is a teacher.

He lives in _Liverpool_, UK.

His name is Eric Sweet.

He's tried to call Eddie, but his mom wouldn't let them talk.

He teaches at Calico Academy.

_He left them_.


	2. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House of Anubis.**

**Okay, so I have decided I will be updating Tuesdays, as you can probably already tell.**

_ Eric Sweet_, Calico Academy.

It's the only thing that flashes through Eddie's mind as he enters the hotel room, feeling as if he's going to fall over. The time change is messing with him, and he's still sleepy, even if he took a nap on the train. He stumbles onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and placing his bag beside him. His mind shuts off as he nestles under the covers.

He goes to sleep with the thought his father might just be a few miles away tonight.

* * *

"Um, hello?" Eddie rubs his eyes as he answers his phone, subtly checking the clock. 11:00 AM.

"Hi, honey!" His mother's cheerful voice reaches his ears, and Eddie smiles. It's kind of comforting to hear her voice- sure, it's the same voice that has yelled and complained and cried to him, but right now, it's _home_. "Did I call at the right time? I was waiting."

"You're fine," Eddie assures, not wanting to tell her that he had just woken up. "How are you?"

"I'm supposed to be asking you questions," she laughs. "How's England?"

"Well, considering I've been asleep most of the time…" Eddie trails off, sitting up to stretch.

Her voice drops to a low tone, and Eddie knows the second he hears it that he doesn't like it. It's ominous and foreboding and his mom is the exact opposite. It doesn't suit her and Eddie doesn't want to hear it either, because the only time Erica Sweet takes on that low tone is when she talks about one of two things: their lack of money or lack of adult male. "Are you going to see…_him_ today?"

"Probably," he croaks out, trying to sound determined and confident, but when his voice cracks, he knows he's failing. In all honesty, Eddie is scared shitless. When he had first embarked on this journey of sorts, he had been cool, composed, and maybe even _confident_. But reality had come crashing down on him all too soon- this was it. He was here, and the sound of his mother's voice reminded him that he couldn't turn around now.

"You'll be fine," Erica reassures, but her voice wavers in a way similar to Eddie's confidence. "Really, he's not bad. Not at all. Not-"

"He left us," Eddie says quietly, but when his mother falls silent as well, he knows she heard. "I know you're trying to make excuses for him, but Mom-" his voice breaks again. "He left us."

"I know, honey," and her tone is soft as well, and suddenly it all comes back.

Eddie was about seven when it happened. He remembers inviting one of his friends over after school, and remembers introducing the boy to his mother. He remembers the boy asking about siblings, but Eddie doesn't have any, so he answers 'no' and his friend nods and they go off to play with action figures.

The boy stays over for dinner.

And that's when the question comes.

_"Where's your dad?" his fellow seven year old asks tactlessly as they sit around the small table. Eddie's mom always laid out a third chair, so Eddie's friend had a place to sit that evening._

He didn't think much of it then, but Eddie knows now why exactly she laid out that third chair. It wasn't because they needed one and it wasn't because they had guests over frequently- it stood as a reminder, a reminder that _yes there was supposed to be a man in that chair so they could complete their family and make it normal and make it functional_.

Eddie bites his lip at the memory, and figures his mother is immersed in her own thoughts, because she hasn't spoken either.

_"Eddie's dad is not here," Ms. Miller purses her lips and answers the question._

_The other boy raises an eyebrow, "Is he in the military? Jake's dad is in the military and-"_

Eddie swallows painfully, remembering his mother's short, concise, straightforward 'no'. Eddie had never really thought being fatherless was a problem, but his friend's reaction that night had proved him wrong. Not having both parents had set him apart.

Because Eric Sweet was not in the military- Eric Sweet was _gone_. And as oblivious as he was, even Eddie knew his mom was ashamed to say that. Ashamed because suddenly _they weren't good enough for Eric _and _he just didn't care enough_. Eddie remembers ladies faking sympathy for him and crying and pinching his cheeks once they heard the news that Eddie's father had ditched them. He remembers his mom cussing them out as they walked to the car after whatever event they were at that evening- cussing them out because their lives were seemingly perfect.

_"We're strong, Eddie," Eddie's mom pulls him into a hug as they walk to the car. "I'm strong. You're strong. They don't know what it's like. But you know what? We do. And we're going to be the ones standing when everyone else falls." _

Over the years, he had adopted his mother's attitude towards it. He wasn't weak, and he didn't want pity, and he didn't need someone crying for him or praying for him because _Eddie Miller was strong_.

"Hey, honey?" a voice brings him back, and he loosens a grip on the bed sheets he didn't even know he had as his mother speaks. It pains him inside, because her voice is choked with tears, and it's a familiar sound that Eddie has grown to hate. He _hates _it when his mother cries. His mother shouldn't be the one with the tears, because his mother is one of the best people he knows and she's one of the strongest people he knows and there have been many nights in which his heart clenches because he can lie in bed and he can hear her sobs late at night and he _hates _it. "I, uh, need to go now. I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah, mom," Eddie promises, closing his eyes tight as if that can wash away the sudden rush of memories. "Bye." He presses end call before falling back in bed.

It was more than just finding his father now.

It was about avenging his mother as well.


	3. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House of Anubis.**

**Yes, I didn't update this on Tuesday. I'll update it once a week though.**

Eddie gulps as he sees the school building. It's not terribly different than the high school he used to go to, which is somewhat encouragement. Familiarity washes over him as he pays the cab driver and takes out a wrinkled slip of paper from his pocket.

This is it. This is where he works.

It's taken a lot of gut today to just heave himself out of bed today and to put on his clothes. Eddie wasn't usually one to stress over clothing, but he had wanted to make the best impression he could to his father. Decked out in a dress shirt and trousers, he's easily the most noticeable one on campus, attracting several stares. He's older than them all- they're starting a new term while he's out of high school for good.

The piece of paper with Eric Sweet's information is clutched tightly in his hand as he makes his way to the front doors. The school's magnificent- its architecture, its grace; it's an embodiment of ancient history.

"Hello?" Eddie taps on the secretary's desk once he's found his way to the office. The lady looks up, a bored expression glazing her face until she takes in his clothes.

"You're not in uniform," she frowns, reaching for a piece of paper on her desk. "Name?"

"I don't go here," Eddie says impatiently, ignoring her question. "Look, I need to see someone. Eric Sweet?"

"He's our principal," the lady states, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "Who are you again?"

"I'm his son," Eddie gulps; the word is awkward on his tongue but it's the truth.

"Funny," the secretary lets out a bitter laugh. "Eric never mentioned a son."

Okay, ouch.

It was perfectly reasonable for Eric to not have mentioned him; Eddie was an aspect of Eric's personal life and one does not usually discuss their personal life during work. But it still hurt. Was Eric ashamed of him? He had no right to be; he _didn't even know him_.

"Could I just see him?" Eddie raises an eyebrow. "You can call my mother, I'm not lying."

And that is how, after ten minutes in which Eddie's mother complained about being called at work, Eddie stands outside the principal's door. He smiles slightly before knocking- how many times had he stood outside doors like this, thinking that the worst thing that could happen was detention?

Eddie knocks on the door, one knock, then another one. He hears the faint call of a 'come in' but his legs have turned to jelly now. His sweaty palms twist the knob and he clenches his eyes shut as he walks in. He cracks one eye open.

It's _him_.

Lowered glasses, cup of tea, balding, gray hair, pale, wrinkled face. It's the person Eddie's always imagined, and he is more than ready to greet himself.

Until he sees the girl sitting in the chair opposite his father.

He knows instantly she's not part of the student body- she doesn't wear the same maroon uniforms as everyone else. She's actually quite pretty, he thinks absentmindedly, eyes darting between his father and the pale auburn-headed women.

"Ah, come in," Eric smiles kindly before his eyes knit in confusion. He was obviously expecting one of his students, but Eddie had come dressed up. "Are you one of my old students?"

Ouch.

Ouch ouch ouch ouch _ouch_.

"No," he replies once he has regained his cool composure. "Um, can we talk, uh, Mr. Sweet, in, uh, private?"

"Of course," the man says, eyebrows now knitted together in a mixture of confusion and concern. "Ms. Williamson, if you could…" he trailed off.

"Yeah, I'll just be going," the woman said hurriedly, picking up her purse and heading towards the door. Eddie stepped aside for her and she turned back around, "Nice to see you again, Mr. Sweet."

"You as well, Ms. Williamson," he smiles as she leaves before getting a bit hazy-eyed. His gaze turns to Eddie and he explains, "Patricia Williamson. One of my old students, graduated a couple months ago. Strong-willed." He smiles fondly, seeming bittersweet, before he focuses on the blonde.

"Hi," Eddie says, sitting down in one of the chairs. He has planned this a million times, seen this scene a million times in his head, but he currently couldn't feel more unprepared.

"Hello, son," Mr. Sweet says amusedly, while Eddie almost jolts. He quickly calms himself- Mr. Sweet probably calls everyone here son; it's no big deal to him. "Do I, er, know you?"

Ouch.

"Yeah," Eddie breathes out. "I think you do." He lays out the piece of paper on the desk, smoothing it out. It has become wrinkled in his hands, but the words are still legible.

"Where did you get this information on me?" Mr. Sweet asks curiously, studying the piece of paper with squinting eyes.

"My mother," Eddie's breath catches in his throat as Mr. Sweet's head shoots up. The man's not stupid; Eddie will give him that. Their eyes lock, hazel against brown, and a veil of silence falls. He knows now. He knows now and he's not saying anything and it is killing Eddie in ways unimaginable. He wants Eric to say something- to scream, to cry, to do something to wash away the suspense. Eddie swallows and tries again, "I'm Eddie, your-"

"Son," Eric chokes it out, eyes looking teary. "Oh my, Edison."

"Eddie," the younger of the two corrects softly, looking slightly sentimental as well.

"_Edison_," Mr. Sweet repeats. "H-how are you? Your mother? Are you okay? What college are you going to? Why are you here? Y-you're _eighteen_, did you make the trip alone?" He pats his forehead to mop up sweat and Eddie lets him ramble on for quite a bit, spewing questions he's not sure how to answer.

"I'm fine," Eddie says calmly, and he wonders how he can keep his cool like this. "Mom's fine."

"Good," Eric heaves a sigh. "Good." He takes a deep breath before slouching and blotting his forehead once again. "I've missed you so much, Edison."

"So much that you never called?" Eddie remarks bitterly, though it's clear as day he's interested in the answer.

"I-I _did _call," Eric assures, putting the handkerchief down. "I called on your birthday, I called on Christmas…your mother told me you weren't ready." A surge of anger flows through him, but Eddie controls it, as he has learned how to over the years. He will discuss that minor detail with his mother later; what mattered right now was this, right now. Sitting in a cluttered office with a man that had gone missing from his life for sixteen years. "Edison, you _know _that I l-"

_Knock_.

"That's, uh, probably one of your students," Eddie mutters after a moment of silence, secretly wishing Eric will send the person outside the door away. "I'll just be going." He stands up and heads to open the door.

"No!" Eric almost jumps at him from behind the desk. "Wait! We must catch up; I _insist _on treating you to dinner today. J-just meet me here at, um, three." Eddie nods stiffly, letting the other boy in before slipping out.

Eric's said everything he was supposed to say and Eddie knows he should feel victorious, feel loved and happy.

But he doesn't.


	4. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House of Anubis.**

Eddie stuffs his hands in his pockets as he walks outside, shielding his eyes from the sun. For England, it's pretty warm out, and he regrets wearing the trousers. Meeting Eric, though only a ten minute affair, had made him sweaty and anxious and nervous. Eddie wipes his forehead before combing the school grounds.

"Hey," a voice calls, and Eddie turns to see the girl from Mr. Sweet's office watching him curiously. She sits under the shade of one of the many oak trees on campus, and Eddie raises an eyebrow at how comfortable she looks. She was dressed as fancy as him and she's certainly attracting stares from the students.

"Hi," he waves awkwardly. They don't know each other at all but he can't very well ignore her. Besides, she and his father seem to be on good terms, so she was obviously an okay person. (Although he didn't know the man well, he was the principal of the school, so he had to have good judgment.)

Eddie walks over to her, feeling the students' eyes on him every step of the way. The girl raises an eyebrow as he cautiously sits down beside her.

"You're American," she mutters before looking up again. "So, how do you know Mr. Sweet?" she asks curiously. "It's just, I haven't seen you around before…and I've been here a while now."

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion but answers the question nevertheless, "He's my, uh, father." He's told himself that time and time again, yet telling someone else always gets him nervous and unsure of himself.

"Oh," she replies, looking as shocked as the lady at the front desk. "_Wow_." She looks him over, and Eddie squirms, feeling uncomfortable. Her eyes rake his body as if she was trying to figure him out; trying to see his intentions.

"And you're Patricia Williamson," Eddie says, leading them off the topic of himself. As much as he likes to brag, he doesn't feel like talking today. "He just told me; I swear I'm not stalking you." A joke.

"I would hope so," she laughs a bit before nodding. "He's a good principal," she says, as if that's some kind of consolation. "Knows the students very well." The two sit in silence- neither seem to want to leave and neither seem to see the need to talk either.

"So, you just graduated?" Eddie says after a good five minutes.

"Yeah, you?" Patricia asks, though she doesn't look too surprised when he nods. "You're not in college?"

"No," Eddie shakes his head, leaning against the tree trunk. "I came to find Eric." He clenches his eyes closed as he reveals that piece of information- he shouldn't have said that. Now she would have questions, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to answer. Talking to Trudy the other day was a muddled mistake- he had been tired that night and willing to give up any information.

"Find?" Patricia asks, but her voice is free of the judgment that had been present in the office lady's voice.

"He, uh, wasn't there when I was younger," Eddie offers vaguely before turning on her. "What about you? You're not in college?"

Patricia clears her throat and it's obvious both are treading on dangerous ground by asking all these questions. "Just need to get my life together before I go, you know?" Eddie finds himself nodding, even though he was still clueless as to what she meant. At least he had a good reason; what was 'get my life together' supposed to mean? He didn't intrude though, opting to remain silent.

"Do you like him?" she suddenly blurts. "Mr. Sweet, I mean?" Eddie shrugs slightly- how can he answer that when he barely knows the man? Patricia speaks again, "He's really cool, you know. Once you get to know him and stuff." Eddie chuckles a bit- was this Patricia's way of backing up her old headmaster? She talked about him in an almost fond way; Eddie can tell that she wants him to like Mr. Sweet- and to be honest, he wants to like his father too; he wants his father to be the person he always expected, the person he always wanted as a dad.

"And you've gotten to know him?" Eddie asks. Not many teachers and students got along well, but maybe it was different here.

"I got detention a lot," she remarks easily. "He had to warm up to me at one point." Eddie laughs- was this what his father had meant by 'strong-willed'? He had obviously known her well enough for her to come back and visit him in spare time.

"Don't worry, I got detention a lot too," Eddie crosses his arms in a smug way.

"Oh, really?" she smirks a bit. "What were you, the school's 'bad boy'?"

"You could say that," he shrugs, feeling a little bit better as he talks. He was known as a lot of things in high school. "What about you?" Patricia dismisses the question with a shrug before standing up.

"Well, I gotta get going, American Boy," she waves, picking up her purse. It's then that he remembers: oh, yes, he hasn't told her his name. She's about to walk off campus, waving at several students she had probably made friends with during her time here.

"Hey, wait," he calls after her. Patricia turns slightly and he runs to catch up with her. "Do you, uh, plan on visiting, um, Mr. Sweet anymore?"

"I'll probably swing by next week," she shrugs, but there's a smile playing on her lips.

Eddie grins, "Cool. I'll probably be around the area too, so…"

Patricia almost laughs, "So, yeah, I'll see you, American Boy." She begins walking once more, and Eddie finds himself beaming. They hardly talked but she seems intriguing in some way. He felt a strange urge to…what? Figure her out? And besides, she obviously knew a lot about his father. (More than he knew at least, which was very pathetic and kind of depressing.) Talking to her could be helpful.

"My name's Eddie," he shouts after her, blissfully unaware of his surroundings and the students watching him as if he was a crazed lunatic.

"What, like Eddie Krueger?" she yells back, already stepping into a cab while he stands on the campus lawn.

The cab's gone faster than he can tell her it's _Freddie Krueger_.


	5. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House of Anubis.**

Eddie eventually _did _go back to the hotel, but his time there was short and full of anticipation- three o'clock was the time he was waiting for, and when it came close enough, he called another cab to escort him back to the school.

And now he walks down the halls once more as the last remaining students filter out, shooting him looks again. Two visits in one day is a bit much, and they're certainly perceptive, Eddie notes. People in his old school wouldn't have cared less what he was doing.

The secretary, especially, bugs him. He decided that while pacing his hotel room- everything about her just ticked him off. She had been silently judging and doubting him the entirety of their talk, and frankly, it's insulting, considering she has no right to do either. Eddie wills himself to look ahead as he walks past her office- he's not in high school anymore, he's mature, and mature people do _not _turn around and shoot dirty looks at people they don't like.

"Edison!" His father greets, before he even knocks on the door. Eddie feels a small smile tugging at his lips- had Eric been eagerly waiting for him to arrive? The prospect makes him feel loved, and he's too wrapped up in those thoughts to realize that he's being ushered not only into the office, but also into a _hug_. Eddie chuckles nervously, patting Eric's back while the older man embraces him. It's weird being held like this, and uncomfortable, considering they had only reunited a couple hours ago.

"Eddie," he finally pulls back, dusting off his leather jacket. He has gotten rid of his earlier, fancier clothes, feeling more confident in the jacket. "The name's _Eddie_." There's a little, nagging, bitter voice in the back of his head spewing all his worst thoughts: _how many times would he have to correct his own father on his name? Eric would know if he had been there for him_ _earlier. _

"Eddie," Eric mutters, looking thoughtful. He pauses before a bright smile lights up his face, "Well, Eddie, shall we go to dinner?"

"Isn't it a bit early?" he asks, glancing at his watch. It's only 3:05 and Eric's doesn't seem _that _old to the point where he's eating this soon.

"Oh yes," Eric peers at Eddie's watch, adjusting his glasses, looking the slightest bit disappointed. "Well, it's your choice Edis- _Eddie_," Eric corrects himself quickly, and Eddie bites his lip. He's catching on. "What would you like to do to pass the time?" Eric's eyes fill with joy, "Oh, I have a chess set somewhere here! Do you play chess, Eddie?"

"No," he admits. He hasn't ever played chess; he's not that kind of person. Up till now, his priorities in life had been getting decent grades and maintaining a reputation at his old school. Countless fights he had gotten in, huge arguments. Eric didn't know any of it yet, and Eddie wasn't sure if he wanted to tell him. Telling Patricia that he was a 'bad boy' had come easily- she was the same age as him and he had a feeling he impressed her by saying it. But telling his own father that his son was basically a juvenile delinquent? No. Eddie could start fresh here, put that all behind him, those sleepless nights and crumpled letters. "How about we just talk?"

Eric looks startled but nevertheless gestures to the chair Eddie had sat in earlier before making his way to sit down. Eddie sits as well, and the two remain in silence, unsure of what to say. Eddie wants to talk about so much, but he also wants to keep the conversation light hearted and happy. Dredging up memories would do the exact opposite.

"So, how have you been these last few years?" Eric asks, and Eddie grits his teeth. Last _few _years? More like last sixteen.

"Good, good," Eddie mutters. "You?"

"Wonderful," Eric agrees, and Eddie feels a pang in his chest. His own father was doing _wonderful _without him. Great.

"I met that student you were talking about," Eddie finally blurts out, desperate for some conversation. He can't handle the awkward silences anymore, this is his father, and it's not supposed to be awkward. They should be able to talk about normal things like sports and cars and girl advice, things he can't talk about with his mother.

"Ah, Patricia," Mr. Sweet smiles before his eyebrows furrow. "She wasn't rude, was she? Ms. Williamson did always have a bit of a temper."

"No," Eddie grins, looking down at his hands. The conversation comes to an awkward standstill once more, and Eddie's mind flashes back to Patricia's excuse for waiting a year. What had she _meant _by 'I need to get my life together'? The question was haunting, and for a minute, he thought about asking Eric if he knew. Eric probably knew a lot about Patricia by the way he talked about her- a hell of a lot more than he knew about Eddie.

Eddie dismisses the idea of asking him about Patricia- everyone needs some privacy, and he, of all people, should respect that.

But if Patricia was knocked off the list of things to talk about, all they had left was angsty teenage stereotypes and long talks of life before they reunited. Eddie sighs, looking up at the man, who is sipping some tea and wrinkling his nose. "Cold," he explains, and Eddie gives a half-smile, as if he can relate. He wants to relate to Eric's life. He just _can't _though.

"Fine," Eddie sighs. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to come so early; at least food would've given him an _excuse _to keep quiet. "Can you, uh, teach me how to play chess?"

Eric beams, dragging out a chessboard from one of his desk drawers. "I'd be _delighted_," he says as he sets everything up. Eddie can't help but feel extremely like the nerds he used to make fun of while learning about the bishop and rook. Was it even a good idea to come to England in the first place? He was glad he and Eric were together once more, but they honestly had nothing in common, and Eddie didn't know how much longer he could hold back who he really was. He didn't know how much bonding would make up for sixteen years, and at this point, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to follow through with it.

But he makes his first move all the same, watching as Eric makes commentary on the game as if there's an audience. The excitement on the older man's face is clear.

They are two very different people, two very different lives, two very different personas. But above all, they are father and son.

And Eddie can only hope that one day, they will be as functional as the rest.


	6. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House of Anubis.**

It's around six when they reach the restaurant, having played many games of chess while making small talk. Eddie grins under his breath- he usually _hates _chess and small talk, but somehow, it's bringing them together. The small talk had turned into joking like old friends, and Eddie had won a game of chess after all. The beam on Eric's face as he saw his son say checkmate was like no other, and it made Eddie feel almost warm inside.

"That was brilliant though," Eric admits, thinking back to the chess tactic Eddie had picked up on. The two were soon seated and waiting for their drinks, and Eric smiles at his son eagerly, almost wistfully. "Edison?"

"Eddie."

"Yes, Eddie. You…you get along with your mother?" Eddie nods ever so slightly, raising an eyebrow. Of course he got along with his mother, or at least he tried to. Sometimes, his mother was all he had. "You…you don't cause her any trouble?" Eric asks hesitantly- he wants them to be well off, because, _yes_, Emily is his ex-wife, but it's no secret that he still cares. Maybe not the way he used to, but he cares.

Emily Miller was always a free spirit of sorts, doing whatever she pleased whenever she felt like it. Eric remembers the first time they met, him being stressed, and then meeting that girl. One smile, and he was good for the rest of the day. He had promised himself that if they were to meet again, he'd get her number.

And they did meet. The two then began dating, complementing each other almost. Eric was loosening up and Emily was at grasps with life. It was a wondrous year, and Eric was convinced. She was the one.

So he popped the question and they got married in a small, quiet, ceremony. Emily seemed to have wanted more, something bigger, something more _extravagant_, but in the end, their wedding was a quiet affair.

But as life went on, there were noticeable differences.

Different parenting styles, different perspectives, different _everything _and what once was known as complemented was now referred to as clashing heads.

So they filed for divorce.

And Eric left.

Maybe they _had _rushed into things, but Eric _never _regretted Eddie. He _loved _his son.

"I don't cause trouble," Eddie says softly, looking down, because that is a lie. His rebellious stage was one of the worst, and he pities his mother. Doing this though, going on a search for Eric, seeing different parts of the world, and different people…it's changing him somehow. But there's a part of him that's still stubborn and resentful, so he asks, "Why do you get married to someone you eventually leave?"

Eric sighs.

"I never wanted to leave your mother and you-"

"Then why did you?" And Eddie's tone is shaking and quivering with either anger or sadness as he makes a fist under the table.

"Emily and I," Eric starts. "We were…different. We didn't realize what we were doing until we did it. We didn't think things through. Maybe if we had, things would've gone better." It makes him feel old and tired to talk like this, but if anyone deserves the truth, it's Eddie.

"So, I'm a mistake?" Eddie looks up, emotion outweighing logic as his eyes blazed. "You just…had sex one night without 'thinking it through' and then you decided to _wimp out _because _you couldn't handle it_?" Heads were turning as his voice rose.

"Edis- Eddie, _please _keep your voice down," Mr. Sweet pleads.

"That's what it is, though, isn't it?" Eddie fumes, standing up. "You're too much of a _coward _to stay by our sides, all because you didn't think ahead!"

"Don't you _dare _call me a coward, Edison, I am your _father _and you will respect me!"

"You have never be a father to me and you never will," Eddie seethes, kicking his chair before leaving the restaurant. Mr. Sweet looks around uncomfortably to everyone and he's unsure of whether to go after him. His eyes go over the crowd again, and he sees…Ms. Williamson? Ah, yes, that _is _her. She's on what looks like a date, but their eyes lock and she nods ever so slightly. And Eric nods too, because all his life, he has been someone she has looked up to of sorts, and he _needs _to do this because who would he be if he didn't?

And so he stands up as well, exiting the room in a more dignified manner. Eddie hasn't gotten far, considering he doesn't have his permit here, and Mr. Sweet approaches him carefully. He doesn't know what to say or what to do and it hits him that _Eddie is right _because if he was truly a father, wouldn't he know? Wouldn't he be able to cheer up his son with a couple words because if he was truly a father, he would _know _his son through and through?

"That was highly inappropriate," are the words that escape his mouth, and Eric sighs, shaking his head. No, he's not here to _lecture_. But it's in his nature to reprimand because he is a _principal _and this is a four star restaurant that they obviously wouldn't be visiting again anytime soon.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry, _Eric_," Eddie's sarcastic remark _hurts_, and Mr. Sweet places a hand over his heart as he watches Eddie kick around a pebble. There are a lot of worse things to be called beside Eric, his actual name, but the way Eddie says it makes him want to cry. And it hits him that it's all true:

Eric Sweet _was _a wimp and a coward and they were trying to make up for sixteen years in one days.

And he gulps painfully, "Do not consider me a father first, Edison. It is obvious we cannot do that." His voice is raspy. "For right now, please just think of me as a friend."

And he watches his boy nod, ever so slightly.


End file.
